<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>strictly business by frogisaliar</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963319">strictly business</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogisaliar/pseuds/frogisaliar'>frogisaliar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Business, DNF, Fluff and Smut, Georgewastaken, M/M, One Shot, attorney dream, business man dream, capitalism arc?, client george, dreamnotfound, drunk george bar fight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:14:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogisaliar/pseuds/frogisaliar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>george needs help. dream is an attorney. he knows what he needs to do, despite their bruised past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>strictly business</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>dream and george have said they are okay with fanfic, but if it makes them uncomfortable in the future i will take it down :)<br/>shoutout to kham &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>button fly</p>
<p>adjust your tie</p>
<p>straighten your blazer</p>
<p>shoes have to be tied tighter</p>
<p>why can’t i find my watch</p>
<p>damnit i lost it again</p>
<p>why the fuck am i even going to this thing</p>
<p>it’s not like he can even help me</p>
<p>god i haven’t seen him in years</p>
<p>fuck i’m late</p>
<p>this was a bad idea</p>
<p>what the fuck am i doi-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>a sharp noise pulls george out of his thoughts. shattered glass is strewn on the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“fucking hell” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>the cat strides confidently away from it’s crime scene. water and glass cover the wooden floor. george reaches for the broom stood next to the mirror, rushing to sweep up the mess whilst keeping a close eye on the clock next to his bed. 5 minutes late. 6 minutes late. 7 minutes late. fuck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>quickly throwing an overcoat over his blazer, he takes quick strides out his apartment and through the hallway. stepping into the mirrored elevator he checks his hair one more time. why should he even care about what he looks like? it’s not like anything will come of this meeting. strictly business. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>the glass windows of the skyscraper glint with the late-afternoon sun. george feels the beads of sweat rolling down the back of his neck, whether they’re from nerves or the beating sun he’s unsure. pushing the large metal door he feels a rush of cold air as he enters the perfectly air conditioned lobby. the counters glean as if they have just been wiped. walking up to the singular welcome counter he spots the secretary he remembered from the past.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“george?” she says timidly, as if he isn’t supposed to be here.</p>
<p>“hi.” george replies with a small smile</p>
<p>“you’re back? i thought-“</p>
<p>“yeah. strictly business, you know?”</p>
<p>“um. yeah! ill key you in, s-“</p>
<p>“second elevator on the left. 3rd floor. door 315. i know”</p>
<p>“right right. well, good luck”</p>
<p>“thanks”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george turns away. the stench of lemon cleaner in this building has always made him sick. never got used to it, he guesses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>3rd floor. door 315. george hovers his hand above the metal door handle. why is he even here? this was a bad idea, he shouldn’t have-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>the handle turns in front of his eyes. he’s face to face with a dark green tie, one he used to know so well. looking up he sees those same devilish green eyes, something so deep within them that a single look makes you know you should turn around but you can’t. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“george.”</p>
<p>“dream.”</p>
<p>“i’m surprised you came.”</p>
<p>“im surprised you asked.”</p>
<p>“you know, business must go on”</p>
<p>“does it really?”</p>
<p>“unfortunately”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george digs his fingernails into his palm, hard enough to leave marks. dream turns around towards his desk, the faded sign above it reading “dream attorneys inc.”, muttering under his breath:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“well, i guess we should get started. you seem to have gotten yourself in a bit of trouble”</p>
<p>“i seem to have, indeed”</p>
<p>“well what was it george. taxes? embezzling? market manipulation? or maybe-“</p>
<p>“assault.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>dream whips his head around, stunned. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“i hit a guy, it wasn’t a big deal really, i don’t even know why i’m here i just…” george trails off. he doesn’t really have reasoning, i guess.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“you HIT someone? george i- i’ve known you for so long i would never have described you as an aggressive person, pretty cocky maybe but”</p>
<p>“first of all, i am not cocky, mr big ego. second, he insulted me and spat in my face, what was i to do?”</p>
<p>“i don’t know, be a sensible person and walk the fuck away?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>the truth is, george hasn’t been able to think like a sensible person since september. september, when he felt the entire world crushing down upon him, september, when dream left. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“it’s not as easy as you think, dream.” george emphasizes dream’s name with a disgusted undertone, as if he could never understand georges mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“well alright. i guess <em> i don’t understand </em>. but i’m here to fix it, that’s what you are paying me for”</p>
<p>“i agree with you, im paying you to fix the problem not scold my like you’re my mother”</p>
<p>“george, i didn't mean to sc-“</p>
<p>“it’s fine just forget it. we are here to work, aren’t we”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>heat flushes the back george’s neck. he studies the way that dream’s fingers delicately flip the pages in the binder. slender. long. rough. his mind flashes to the past. hands around hands. legs tangled. those tough, slender, fingers wrapped around the milky skin of his neck. bruises.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“george? are you even listening to me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>he snaps back into his chair. he glances up at an impatient dream.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“i asked you what time, roughly, this happened. theres a lot of variation in the paperwork”</p>
<p>“i dunno, i was pretty drunk but i think around 2-2:30?”</p>
<p>“what the fuck where you doing in a bar at 2 in the morning?”</p>
<p>“none of your fucking business, dream.”</p>
<p>“it is my business. actually, it’s exactly my business because im the one that has to drag urself out of this shitshow of a case”</p>
<p>“fine. y'know, i never used to drink before….around these last few weeks. i go there every night. drink enough to know i won’t remember what i said and then stumble myself back home. sometimes with a girl, sometimes without. whatever i want, really.”</p>
<p>“thats not like you george”</p>
<p>“like you’d fucking know me, dream.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george shoots a glare at dream, watching his rock-hard facade crack a little. it was fun, watching dream try to justify himself. make up excuses in his mind for what he did. for ruining george. dream ruined him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“fine. 2am. got it.”</p>
<p>dream quickly draws his attention back to the stack of papers and shift uncomfortably in his chair. george enjoys the sight. playing with dream like he played with him. tore every string out of his heart, blew out the candle that used to glow behind george’s eyes, bruised his mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>george thinks for a second before unbuttoning the top button of his collar, loosening his tie a bit to do so. maybe it was fun, feeling in control. he bets dream can smell the whiskey laced on his tongue from the night before. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>fuck. this is not why hes here. nothing would happen. dream made that clear enough months ago.</p>
<p>but when george catches dream noticing the subtle movement of his hands on his tie, the button passing through the hole, he knows their fire that burned out might still have an ember lingering about. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>dream gets up out of his chair, circling around the desk, beginning to pace around the room gaze still intent on the document in hand. briefly, he glances at george, who is concentrated on something on his phone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“george.”</p>
<p>“dream?” george says lazily.</p>
<p>“nice tie.”</p>
<p>“thanks”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george feels his cheeks boil with heat. what the fuck? he must have noticed. it’s the tie he wore the night of their first ‘meeting’. the night that shit hit the fan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>dream mutters softly under his breath: “would look better on the floor in my opinion”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george thinks hes hallucinating. dream ended things long ago. theres nothing between them. there isn’t and will never be again. tentatively george laces his fingers up to his tie. softly, he pulls on the knot until the tie unfurls around his neck. he leaves it there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>dream circles to the back on george’s chair. leaning his elbows on the back, he gets close enough that george can feel the hot breath on his neck. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...if it’s hot in here, i can turn on the fan. seeing as u must be uncomfortable enough to loosen up”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george’s breath hitches. slowly and carefully he pulls the tie off his neck and drops it onto the dark colored carpet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>dream leans even closer, close enough to taste george’s neck. his fingers slowly wrap to the front of his neck, touching it so lightly george’s mind whirls. if dream could see his eyes he would know they were begging for dream to grasp on tighter, make him his.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>dream’s fingers wrap closer to his neck, grazing up and down. gently he tilts georges head up so he can see his pretty face. all dream wanted was for george to leave with more marks than he came in with.</p>
<p>dream holds his grasp on george’s neck tighter so george is forced to fully look into his eyes. gently he places a single kiss on his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. he feels lightheaded, partly from the touch and partly from the lack of blood flow to his brain. dream lets go too soon. george wants more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george lulls his head forward to the wall behind dreams desk. he can feel that dream is still standing behind him. he feels watched, like prey. dream touches a single finger to the arm of his chair, spinning george around with a light push. face-to face. predator and prey.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“stand up”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george hesitates. hes entranced. he can’t think straight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“i said stand up. now.”</p>
<p>george pushes himself out of his chair. he knows the outline in his perfectly ironed dress pants is evident. dream loves every second of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“i forgot how pretty you are.”</p>
<p>“i forgot-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george is cut off by a finger being shoved into his open mouth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“suck”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george obeys. he knows what happens if he doesn’t. he remembers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>dream steps closer and closer to george, forcing george to back up against the wall. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“unbutton. now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>georges fingers rise to the buttons on his pressed white shirt. slowly and tentatively he unbuttons a single button.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“more. and faster. im not that patient, georgie”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>the intonation on the pet name melts george. he unbuttons every button with haste. his shirt hangs open, still tucked in to his pants. </p>
<p>dream removes his fingers from george’s mouth. george gasps for air before it being stolen right back away from him as dream kisses him hard. harder than he had in the past. hard like he’d been waiting for it for a very long time. georges head crashes into the wall with force.</p>
<p>dream moves to suck roughly on george’s neck. again. and again. and again. bruise after bruise after bruise, blending in with the ones from the fight. </p>
<p>nobody will notice the difference between them. a perfectly unplanned disguise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george lets out a soft moan as dream moves further and further down with his marks. soft-edged purple circles are sprinkled down his neck, collarbone, chest. their bodies are pressed close, burning heat radiating between them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>hands in hands.</em>
</p>
<p>dreams fingers laced with george keep him pinned against the cold stone wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>legs in between legs.</em>
</p>
<p>dream's knee between georges thighs keeps his legs open, keeps him begging for more touch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>bodies on the floor.</em>
</p>
<p>more buttons are unbuttoned, neatly tied ties and stark white shirts lie crumpled on the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>there was no going back now. the ember left from before had sparked a forest flame. maybe they won't go down the same paths again.</p>
<p>george the fire, dream the ice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>all in the name of the game.</p>
<p>the art of the trade. </p>
<p>strictly business.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"if a man's kiss burns like fire, his love will be true, but if his kiss burns like ice...his love will bring pain and ruin"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>follow me on twitter if u read this lolz @frogisaliar</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>